Cold Skin
by xCookie93
Summary: Identifying a body is very simple. Especially if your best friend is on the table. One-shot.


Loneliness was always testing me. At times it did not bother me at all. At other times it was driving me mad. Still does. Yes, how it makes me feel useless now...

I have always been known as a cold man. But not without a heart. No, one person thought I actually had heart. Though, at times I doubted it myself.

Baker Street was always very quiet, when my dear friend Watson was not around. The quiet peace was not always the same. Sometimes I indeed needed time to be alone with my thoughts. And Watson had his practice of cause. It would not be different without a case.

This time was different. At least it was going to be.

Watson had been gone to his medical practice for a couple of days, and I was left alone. That was why I was sitting restlessly against a wall in the corner of the room with Gladstone beside me, throwing small crumbled pieces of paper, trying to hit a bowl some feet away from me.

No case had been brought to the table. Not a single mystery. Even Gladstone looked impatient, as he nibbled at my sleeve, obviously trying to draw some of my attention to him. I rested my head against the wall, letting out a sigh and then gave the dog a look. His eyes were focused on mine for a brief moment, before he surrendered and lay down beside me. A weak smile grew on my lips. I shuddered a little and rested my forearm on my knee, relaxing and closing my eyes for a moment, actually enjoying the peaceful room.

Suddenly I heard Mrs. Hudson calling out my name, which got Gladstone to let out a quiet bark.

She informed me on the other side of the door about an officer being there to give me a message.

"Let him in!" I yelled back to her, and not much time passed before the door opened, and a young officer walked in.

He took off his hat and greeted me. I had never seen him before, so I assumed he was new in the department.

The officer informed me of Lestrade sending him and a body that I had to examine and perhaps could identify.

In my need of getting a new case I got up and walked around to find my coat somewhere. I could almost feel the officer's eyes following me around the room. I could just picture, how he was eyeing me with an odd look.

We left the house in a hurry and went down the London streets. I thought about how much more engaging it would be with Watson by my side.

With the young officer I entered the mortuary and went to the dissection room, not hesitating when the officer opened the door. I stepped inside, and he closed the door behind me, not entering the room himself. I suppose he probably was not used to the smell of dead meat yet.

The atmosphere of the room was unpleasant, and I was not at all surprised to see Lestrade there. There was something that was not right, though. He was glancing around, seeming very uncomfortable with the situation. I had never seen him like that.

Besides Lestrade there was another police officer and the man who was responsible for the identification of the body. In the middle of the room was the dissection table which had a white sheet pulled over something human-shaped.

"Gentlemen," I greeted and took off my hat, holding it loosely under my arm.

"Holmes," Lestrade said with a low, cautious voice, avoiding my eyes. The policeman tipped his hat towards me.

I frowned briefly but then managed to keep my face calm and not showing any signs of confusion that was hidden inside. Whatever this was, it was all but good.

I took advantage of the moment and pulled at my collar with a single finger, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable with the silence.

The dissection man broke it, looking straight towards me. "I assume you know what we are dealing with here, sir?"

"I know that the man was shot to death and is not identified yet, thank you," I replied, eyeing the table almost right in front of me. "That is why I am here."

"They found the poor man in the outskirts of town this morning, sir," the officer said. "Shot in the chest, probably dead on the spot."

I nodded in comprehension.

The heavy swallowing from Lestrade actually caught my ears.

And that was not long before he spoke. "It is going to be quite of a chock, Holmes..."

His hesitation – just the words in general – made my stomach curl up a little, and I looked at him suspiciously for a moment.

The silence went upon us once again.

Then I quickly stepped forward, and I remember Lestrade's voice exclaiming my name, just before I took hold of the sheet and removed it from the dead's face.

My eyes grew, and my heart sank, as I backed away quickly, shoving myself against a wall and my hat finding its way along the floor. I am sure the horror was way too clear in my face. With my back against the wall I slid to the floor with my hand covering my mouth, my eyes still focused on the still body in front of me.

Watson was lying there, pale and lifeless.

My body began to tremble, and I felt my eyes getting filled with tears.

I waved Lestrade into silence, when he tried to get in contact with me, saying my name once again. I had to place both of my hands over my mouth and close my eyes against my broken mind. And I sat like that for a brief moment before staring into nothing.

"I need a moment." My voice was hoarse and cracking.

They did not move. The rage and frustration inside me grew with a single snap.

"GET OUT!" I yelled, almost not believing how pathetic I sounded.

Finally they began to move out of the room. Lestrade came past me and reached out, probably to show his sympathy, but I hit his hand away and ran my own hand across my face, as they closed the door.

Feeling the grief growing inside me, I choked against up-coming sobs. And got up from the floor.

I moved slowly forward and stopped just beside my friend's face.

I studied him, but I did not dare removing further of the sheet. All I wanted was to see his face. I begged God to let those bright eyes open. I begged for Watson to be alive. Damn it, alive!

He looked so peaceful with a weak smile on his lips, and I felt my tears threatening to spill and my mouth twisting. It was way too painful to ever imagine.

My fingers reached out to touch the side of his face. His skin was so cold without the warm blood pulsing through his veins, giving his body life. I kept stroking his cheek gently with my fingertips before letting go and reaching under the sheet to find his hand. And I took it and held it close to my face, lacing those cold fingers together with mine.

I could not keep a straight face anymore as I went to pieces and fell to my knees beside the table, my entire world breaking down.

And I cried. I sobbed with all my strength, for once in my life showing my feelings. I did not let go of Watson's hand but just bent my head and felt the tears running down my face and hitting the floor. My entire body trembled violently as I let go of so many years of hidden feelings. Letting a friend go was entirely new to me.

Watson believed I had a heart.

And I confirmed it.


End file.
